Checkpoint D
by theCarny
Summary: While looking for a missing friend, Gordon and Alyx end up at the seemingly hospitable, albiet isolated, Checkpoint D. When the weather worstens, though, they're forced to stay...and discover the chilling secret of the resident rebels.
1. Chapter 1

"Therefore, you can never be too careful about the mating habits of yetibirds. Many-a northern traveler has lost his life to the, ah..._intrusive_ creatures."

It was an interesting way to finish a spiel, but Kleiner always found a way.

Gordon watched his mentor's flickering image on the monitor, bearing an expression of mortification. Alyx had her face in her palm, trying very hard to block out his droning. Having the doctor care for them was one thing, but three-hour speeches on survival down to the most finicky detail was somewhat unimaginative to the duo, who had spent the last good bit of their time throwing electrified Combines at each other, dropping cars on zombies, and using an unusual quantity of exploding barrels to their advantage.

"Alright," Alyx sighed. "We should go. Thanks for your help."

"And yours, too," the doctor said, adjusting his glasses. "Oh wait, one more thing."

Alyx and Gordon cast each other looks of pain.

"You haven't heard from our dear friend Barney, have you?"

Now Gordon was interested. A little worriedly, he shook his head.

"Oh dear, dear, dear..." Kleiner mumbled.

"What's wrong?" Alyx asked, now looking up into the screen.

"Well, nothing, I hope, but..." Kleiner thought for a moment. "He was going to fly to meet you, but I expected him to have arrived by now, and he hasn't contacted me in well over an hour. Um, Gordon, Alyx...would you mind looking for him on your way North?"

Gordon nodded vigorously, suddenly feeling a little antsy.

"Of course we'll look for him!" Alyx replied, a little grimly.

"Fantastic! I'll send you the coordinates of his last transmission."

It took a few moments for the fax to transfer. Gordon examined the type when he snatched the neatly-folded sheets from the printer, internally trying to estimate the location.

"Don't worry, Dr. Kleiner. We'll find him," Alyx asserted.

"I know I can count on you two. Now remember...be safe."

The transmission cut off, flickering a few times before the screen went blank. They could have sworn it sparked as well.

This base was a lot more of a ramshackle than others that Gordon and Alyx had visited. Of course, it must have been hard to safely maintain such an isolated, exposed building, but that didn't make the equipment any easier to use.

Alyx sighed, briefly running her hand past her headband. She looked up, and caught Gordon's concerned eye. She glanced away as the doors slid open, and a rebel stepped inside.

"Mr. Freeman, Ms. Vance," he nodded curtly to them, respectively. "If you'd come with me please?"

Next thing either of them knew, they were walking hastily down a corridor, littered with flaking paint and dust, looking at the rebel ahead of them.

"Alright, so, the wind gets stronger the further north you travel. you go, so a helicopter will be kind of useless. But don't worry, we've got it all figured out."

He stopped at a door and hit a couple of buttons on the keypad before the door swung open and allowed them into what seemed to be an old hangar. Seemingly beaming, the man led the two down a good few meters before stopping at what looked like a large silver box with wheels.

"Finest truck we could salvage," he said with admiration, taking a moment to watch his baby. "We've already filled 'er with everything you need; guns, ammunition, rations, and we even included a radar screen with a radio scanner. Of course, we couldn't get the damn air conditioner to work, but I don't think you'll be needing that anyways."

Alyx whistled.

Gordon examined the vehicle from wheel-to-roof. It looked a little like a Hummer, but less _encroaching_. What ever it was, he hadn't seen anything like it since before the Black Mesa incident.

"I'll get the door open for ya, for when you want to leave," the rebel said. "Oh, and here." He tossed a jingling lump at Gordon. He caught the keys mid-air, then looked back up at the rebel, who was striding across the room to some form of control pattern.

Tapping a knuckle against the hood, and apparently satisfied, Alyx looked up at Gordon.

"Shall we?"

They slipped into the vehicle's interior, which was coated in some sort of old, velvety upholstery, the dust newly swept off the black console, and the tattered steering wheel looking strangely comforting to Gordon.

"Why do I always drive?" he asked, giving a small, amused smirk despite his grim tone.

"Because. It's hard to crowbar someone from a car."

"Uh...huh."

The bay doors were already beginning to roll upwards, groaning as if they had just awoken from an ancient slumber.

"You got the coordinates?" Alyx asked, patting the armrests of her seat with approval.

Gordon nodded, showing her the folded papers, before setting them on the dashboard. He then took the key and stuck it in the ignition. The truck roared, its entire body suddenly shaking with vibrant life.

"That's my girl!" the rebel called.

Putting it into drive, Gordon began to slowly move the vehicle towards the exit.

"Alright you guys, you heard what the doctor said; it's dangerous out there. Watch yer backs!"

"I don't think that'll be a problem," Alyx commented. "Thanks for the ride!"

The rebel saluted, and the duo plunged out the door and onto the road. The road didn't last long, littered with enough potholes and thin, snow-filled cracks as it was. Ravaged by weather and war, the highway soon melted into the permafrosted earth, feeling almost as turbulent as the sky had.

"Careful, Gordon," Alyx muttered, staring warily into the building snowstorm. Flakes were already constantly spattering themselves across the windshield.

"I'm fine, Alyx," the physicist replied somewhat irritably, leaning a little towards the windshield.

There was nothing for miles, save rocks strewn about the windswept landscape. The sky hadn't even changed its sombre tint, blotted with pillowy clouds. They weren't pleasant, comfortable pillows either, but the kind that people used to smother one another. Wind moaning and straining against the side of the truck didn't help, sounding suspiciously like the groans of the undead. Gordon's fingers tensed slightly against the steering wheel.

Alyx smirked at him, patting her holster. The horizon, despite Gordon's misgivings, remained silent.


	2. Chapter 2

Swelling like a fed fire, the storm steadily beat against the vehicle, blinding the occupants with a sheet of white. It wasn't long before their eyes were focused more on the radar than the road itself.

"The conditions are awful," Alyx commented. "No wonder not even the Combine have a base up here."

"Mmmhm."

"I mean, can anything even live up here?"

"Polar bears..."

"Polar bears?"

"Never mind."

"Those sound dangerous. Gordon? What are b--oh my God, stop!"

Gordon's foot slammed the break out of reflex, not even registering what Alyx herself had seen.

"Look!"

She was pressed against the passenger window. Gordon followed her apparent line of site to a pile of shiny black protruding from a heap of boulders and snow.

"Check the coordinates of that transmission. Quick!"

Grappling at the paper, they looked between the type, the radar, then finally, each other.

Alyx thrust the door open, slid from the vehicle and took off, Gordon in tow. As they approached, it became more and more apparent what they were looking at. The giveaway was the blade sticking straight up into the air, its companions bent around it. It was the sorry remains of a helicopter.

"Barney?" Gordon called, Alyx's voice joining his soon as they sped up to reach the crash site.

Cautiously, they strafed around it, inspecting the damage. Chunks of panelling were strewn around, but despite the crumpled tail, the main body seemed to be relatively intact. A giant gully carved into the snow suggested a bit more than a rocky landing. Abruptly, Alyx gasped and turned away.

"Oh God. Gordon. Look."

His stomach froze almost as solid as the world around him. There was an arm dangling out from the shattered side of the cockpit. Gordon swallowed, sweat beading on his forehead despite the chilled wind. Alyx was facing completely away from the wreckage, biting the tip of her finger.

_It's too soon for this..._

Slowly, he moved closer the wreckage, the crunches of snow and gravel beneath his boots sounding more like the crunch of bones. Like a film, every scenario played out in his mind, though they always came to one inevitable ending, weaving his heart another knot with each terrible thought. Biting his lip, Gordon knelt, reaching into the cockpit, wary of the broken, bloody glass sticking jaggedly from the frame of the helicopter. He hesitated for a moment, then lay his hand on the body, still hanging from its seatbelt. Gordon tried to force himself not to close his eyes as he turned it to face him.

Alyx watched out of the corner of her eye, Gordon the only thing she could see, trying to gauge his reaction, tempted to run and not look back.

She saw her friend tense, and her breath caught in her throat, heart trying to break free of her ribs. Then she heard him hiss; a sigh from between his teeth.

"It's not him," he called, his voice weakened in the impact of relief.

Alyx felt like she was about to collapse, and she rubbed her temple, trying to refocus her thoughts.

"Oh thank God."

"He isn't here, though," Gordon continued. "So...where?"

"Well, he couldn't have gotten far in this," Alyx speculated. She realized what this could also mean. "We have to find him, Gordon."

"I know."

He quickly re-scanned the area, but he knew that any of Barney's footprints would have been swept over by the snow.

"He could have gone in any direction," Alyx muttered, running up to the makeshift road, trying to see further, without success.

Gordon knelt again, and this time forced his head into the cockpit, trying to pay no heed to the dead pilot. He smirked as he heard a tiny "ping"; the radar system still seemed intact. About to withdraw his head and announce that Barney was probably heading back to the base as they spoke, something caught his eye. It was a marker on the radar, and it was much too close to be the base behind them. Frowning, Gordon pulled out of the cockpit and looked at Alyx.

"Can you see anything to the east of here?"

She squinted and looked into the distance.

"No. It's too cloudy. Why?"

"According the radar, there's something over there."

"Maybe it's a glitch?"

Gordon shook his head, then stood, and went to join Alyx. Together they re-entered the truck and examined the radar. Sure enough, a tiny spot was off in the east.

"Huh. I didn't even notice that before," Alyx muttered. "Is it one of ours?"

Once again, Gordon shook his head, though this time it wasn't to indicate a negatory response, but to state his confusion. He picked up the radio.

"Base, this is Freeman, message, over."

The line crackled for a moment, and he thought that they may not response. However, the line picked back up soon enough.

"Freeman, this is Base, send message, over."

"We're getting something on the radar, just northeast of the coordinates Dr. Kleiner faxed us. Can you inform us of its purpose and affiliation, over?"

More radio silence.

"Ah, that's Checkpoint Delta. Out of the way from your route...actually, out of the way of everything. Not much up there other than the local refugees, over."

"We think it's possible that Barney Calhoun is at Checkpoint Delta. Can you get affirmation from the Checkpoint, over?"

"Will do, doc. One moment, over."

The silence was longer this time. Gordon and Alyx gave each other concerned glances as it stretched on. Finally, an eternity later, the line picked back up.

"It seems that communications between Base and Checkpoint Delta aren't getting through. It could be just the weather, but you never know, right? Maybe you should check it out, Dr. Freeman, if you don't mind the suggestion. Especially if Calhoun is said to be there. Over."

"We'll pay them a visit," Gordon replied, nodding. "Over."

"Awesome. We'll keep the guys on their toes here in case you guys need help; just give us a ring, over!"

"Okay. This is Freeman, out."

He looked at Alyx, whose eyebrows were raised more than should be humanly possible.

"That sounded promising."

"Doesn't it always?"

The shift from what could be pathetically called a road, and what could definitely be called the rugged tundra was surprisingly not that big. That wasn't necessarily a good thing, but at least the headache-inducing bumps didn't get any worse. At least the truck seemed to be decent for all-terrain.

Growing steadily bigger, the blip on the map almost seemed to be taunting the duo, who were unable to locate it for a good couple minutes of driving. Then out of nowhere, a great black form burst from the cloud cover.

"Whoa, what is that?!"

Gordon had slammed the brakes out of surprise, but now that he was focused on it, it seemed a lot less enthralling.

"It's an old oil rig," he explained. "I think...partially subterranean. Smart idea. Having a base there, I mean."

Not that Gordon had seen many oil rigs in his life, but this one seemed especially large. It must have been a rather large oil bed; he seemed to recall controversy about such things just before the Incident.

Now at half of its previous speed, the truck crept closer to the structure, both of its occupants staring at it wide-eyed. It grew larger, it seemed, as they approached, and finally they were at the gates, almost too engrossed in its sight to notice something moving in front of them.

_Almost_.

Alyx whipped out her gun but stopped short when the little man at the gate waved his arms and ducked away.

_Oops._

"Sorry!" she called after rolling her window down. "Didn't mean to scare you like that! It's us; Alyx Vance and Gordon Freeman."

The trembling little fellow peeked around the gate, eyes now wide with something other than fear.

"F-freeman?" he stuttered.

"Yeah! The guys at the last base were trying to radio you but they got no response. You mind if we come in?" Alyx requested.

Cautiously, the rebel had stepped out from behind his hiding place and was trying to stare past the reflective windshield of the truck. His eyes caught Gordon, and he nodded vigorously, seeming to only have heard Alyx's request right then. He whispered something to himself, before calling back.

"Y--of course! Give me one minute."

He fished around in his thick, downy jacket for a moment, then took out a key, which he used to unlatch the gate's padlock. Cutting edge of technology, as always. The doors swung inwards, and Gordon gently pressed the gas pedal.

The moment they went through the gate, something poked tiny needles into the back of his neck.


	3. Chapter 3

"What's up, Gordon? You look pale," Alyx mentioned as the physicist pulled the truck to a stop. "Paler than usual, anyway."

Gordon shook his head and shrugged. Alyx shook her head too, but for different reasons.

"You're so weird sometimes."

He shot her an almost hurt look. She giggled.

"Oh come on, stop that."

Drawing their attention outside, a few more shy little figures were popping out from behind fences or dumpsters, even at the mouth of the massive complex. They all seemed to be staring at them in awe.

The first rebel came to the window of the truck just as Gordon was about to open the door. With the window still open a crack, the little man didn't hesitate to speak up.

"So, Mr. Freeman, how can we be of assistance? The parkade collapsed a long time ago so you'll have to park out here, but we have a special weapon storage room inside, as well as accommodations and food. Will you be staying for long?"

Blinking as the torrent of words crashed upon them, Alyx and Gordon exchanged glances.

"Well..."

"Right this way. Hey, you three! Come unpack the back, here. The Free Man is here!"

The rebel scurried away. Gordon shrugged, then turned back to Alyx, smirking in approval. Alyx wasn't looking back. She was gazing out the window, at nothing in particular, wearing a haze for an expression. Gordon's grin faltered.

"Alyx?"

She blinked and shook her head, then turned to him.

"Uh, yeah?"

His response was a slight frown of concern. She forced a smile, but didn't say anything. Their escorts pulled open the doors, and consequentially they got out, moving robotically towards the base, nodding automatically to the rebels who were nattering on about their luggage. Alyx was walking rather quickly, despite her daze. Gordon followed at a slower pace. He didn't want her to leave his sight, but he didn't know what he could do otherwise.

Despite its glum, deteriorating insides, the walls stained with rust and the paint taken off in chunks, the rig was actually fairly warm, even welcoming. Gordon didn't spend much time sniffing the roses, but the odd thing here or there--newspaper clippings on the walls, fresh coffee stains on the ground--set up some sort of homey illusion, something unexpected from an isolated northern base.

"You like it?" asked the same rebel from earlier. He was a fairly young fellow, with upbeat blue eyes and pink cheeks, providing an interesting contrast to his tattered wardrobe.

Gordon nodded. He was preoccupied with Alyx, a few feet ahead of them, who seemed to be walking aimlessly down the corridor.

The boy seemed to glow at his lack of words.

"W...w..wow. I'm...I'm honoured," he stammered.

Gordon cast him an eyebrow, almost thinking that the rebel was about to have a heart attack. They continued to walk, passing a door every now and then. Every time they did, there seemed to be a greater presence in the everlasting hall. Gordon looked over his shoulder, and realized it was for good reason; there were people watching him all the way down the hallway. Nervously, he waved a little limp-wristedly, before continuing after his star-stricken companion.

"Here's your room!" the fellow suddenly announced, throwing his arms into the air as if he'd just made a grand discovery. Gordon peeked into the door and saw a little bed, a little dresser, and not much else. "Sorry it's not much, but it's probably one of the best we got! Go, make yourself at home."

Gordon was inside, examining the little room.

"Oh, thanks, um..." he glanced back at the rebel, who seemed to blush sheepishly.

"It's Devin."

"Ah, thanks, Devin."

"Thank _you_, Mr. Freeman! Oh, and one more thing..."

Gordon gave him a questioning look.

"Your lady friend...see, we don't have enough accommodations for both of you so she'll have to stay in here too. We can look for a cot or something, but just so you know...Mr. Freeman? You look awfully red."

"I'm...fine."

Then Gordon nearly went even redder, because he realized with a tint of horror that he'd forgotten to ask something particularly important.

"There was a man who's helicopter went down near here. Have you picked anyone else up within the past 24 hours?"

Devin perked up even higher, if that was possible.

"Yep! The, heh, the _messenger _is fine. He was a little roughed up, probably sleeping right now, but he's a-okay!"

Gordon sighed heavily, every limb in his body feeling a lot more limpid as one of his many problems stamped itself out of existence.

"Can I see him at any point?" he inquired.

"Oh, of course! Like I said, though, I think he's sleeping...but tonight we're going to have a huge dinner, you'll probably see him then. And I'll send someone to get you when everything's ready, alright?"

Gordon shrugged. He wasn't in much of a hurry. He nodded.

"Alrighty then. See you later, Mr. Freeman!"

Then the rebel took off, humming a happy little ditty down the hallway. Gordon could have sworn he heard the sound of skipping. Wondering when they had decided that Checkpoint D was a hotel, he softly closed the door, then worked on slipping out of the HEV suit. It was useful in a bind, but not much for comfort.

The issue with Alyx nipped his mind a little, but he shrugged it off in a wave of relaxation mixed with apathy. He hadn't slept in an actual bed for a very long time. He wasn't about to pass up the opportunity. Where Alyx _was_, however, still somewhat bothered him, but she was a smart enough girl; she could map the place on a moment's notice, he figured.

Stripped down to the patchy blue jumpsuit he'd been wearing since he reached City 17, Gordon plunked down onto the bed, ignoring its threatening creaks. He patted the bed, contemplating what was to come. The thoughts didn't get very far, as memory began to take over, nibbling at the edges of his sanity. Sighing from his nose, Gordon leaned forward, resting his face in his hands, running his fingers through his short, dishelved hair.

The scene still played out before him in vivid detail. The Advisors, floating towards them. The panic. The hopelessness. The helplessness...then the spray of blood and Alyx's screams, coupled with his own.

What happened after that was still a blur. He vaguely remembered Kleiner, gasping something he couldn't remember, turning away from them as if he had been struck. Magnusson, who, in all his ego and irritability, for an instant was at a loss for words. Then there was Alyx, who cried and sobbed then stopped altogether, a weak shell who operated automatically, wordless, even when Gordon threw his arms around her, distracted by his own horror, but trying to contain hers, trying to _destroy_ it.

Of course, Gordon was good enough at inflicting pain, but it was the one thing he was never fully able to kill.

He tried laying back, and tried to forget, spreading his arms out across the bed and staring hard at the ceiling. At least Barney, as it seemed, was alright. As soon as he could see him, the better. Being accompanied by him would make their job easier if they encountered any rough patches.

The coordinates to the Borealis showed it as being a fair bit North. Continuing on like this, it could be a while until they got there, and when they did, they probably couldn't count on much help. If anything did live up there, it was probably not on their side. He felt uneasy, thinking back to Kleiner's speech on the deadly yetibirds.

Rolling onto his side, Gordon realized that despite their constant movement, he was not at all in any state to rest. Even if he wanted to, he probably wouldn't be able to. Erecting himself, he slid back off the bed and moved out into the hallway. There was a slight murmuring from some rebels down a few feet, but he shrugged it off, and walked the opposite of the way he came. His only hope was that somehow this dingy place had something close to a coffee machine.

He found a mess hall decently quickly. It was a good size, though in just as much disrepair as the rest of the building. There was no one else there save for a group of rebels sitting at a corner table. They stopped talking as soon as he entered. Nodding his hello, Gordon was hardly focused on first impressions and instead beelined for what seemed to be a coffee machine, sweeping up a styrofoam cup and eagerly hitting the trigger. It spat out a few dark globules, and nothing more. Gordon glared at it, then dropped the cup back onto the counter. Sourly, he turned to walk towards the table on the complete opposite side of the one with the rebels, who were talking unusually quietly.

Readying himself to sit, Gordon was stopped short.

"Gordon?"

He turned, and his heart lifted momentarily at the recognition of an old friend.

"Hi, Barney," Gordon said, not expecting the hoarseness in his voice.

"Jesus Christ, Gordon, it _is_ you," Barney continued, trotting towards him from the other side of the room. "Gordon..." Suddenly his features dropped dramatically.

Gordon took on a puzzled expression, before every nerve in his body told him to duck.

"WHY THE HELL DIDN'T YOU _DO_ SOMETHING?!"

He thought Barney was about to punch him, but the fist grabbed his collar instead, thrusting him up against the concrete wall.

"I..."

"You were _right there_! Right in front of 'em!"

Barney shoved him harder against the wall, and Gordon could only gawk. He had never seen Barney like this before, nor had he expected such a reaction upon their reuniting.

"He's _dead_, Gordon. Eli is _dead_. Our leader, is _DEAD_," Barney snarled. "What's gonna happen now, huh? What?!"

His voice cracked suddenly and he let the sentence hang, eyes darting around Gordon's face.

The physicist didn't look angry, or even surprised. He looked downright _hurt_.

Barney's expression softened, the flame in his eye extinguished.

"Oh Gods, Gordon..." he breathed, releasing his friend and stepping back, horrified at himself. "I...I'm sorry...I...I didn't mean that."

Gordon swallowed, pulling himself off of the wall and adjusting his glasses.

"Gordon...I..."

The physicist brushed off his sleeve as if hardly anything had happened. His expression was once again stoic.

"It's fine, Barney. We're all high-strung right now."

"Yeah, but I mean, I shouldn't have done that," the former guard said, scratching the side of his grey-peppered head and avoiding Gordon's eyes. "Jeez, I'm..." His voice petered off and he sighed, lending to the following silence.

"Nobody could have done anything," Gordon said, his voice hardly above a whisper.

Barney raised his eyebrows at this sudden statement, then hung his head, pressing a knuckle against his lips.

"Yeah. You're right. You're right..." he sighed.

Gordon grinned weakly.

"It's good to see you again, Barney," he said, ducking a little so he could look up at his friend. Barney returned the facial gesture half-heartedly.

"Yeah. C'mere."

He pulled Gordon into an awkward one-armed hug, gently thumping his fist against his back before pulling away, though his hand lingered on Gordon's shoulder, pushing him towards a table.

"I was worried sick about you two," Barney said, trying to raise the mood of his voice. "I mean, when we saw the Citadel go up like that..."

"How do you think we felt when we saw that helicopter?" Gordon replied, sliding onto a bench. Barney slid in next to him.

"The wind got the better of us. The pilot...poor guy," he shook his head. Gordon noticed a patch of dried blood encrusted over his hair and partially onto the side of his head. He frowned, but Barney was seemingly disregarding his concern.

"Lucky you only got bumped on the head."

"Well, my wrist hurts a little too."

"Hmm."

"Yeah. Where's Alyx?"

Gordon shrugged.

"Somewhere."

"She holding up alright?" Barney asked.

"I...guess?"

"Right, I forgot, you're about as emotional as a dead stump."

Gordon opened his mouth to launch a bitter reply but let the assault hang short as he noticed the lights beginning to flicker.

Then the ground began to shake.

Someone shouted something, and Gordon was under the table with Barney on a moment's notice. He couldn't believe his luck.

He was used to zombies practically popping out of the walls, relentless Gunships and battalions of Combines aimed only for him.

But really.

An _earthquake_?


End file.
